


road to ruin

by detectivemeer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Character Death, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivemeer/pseuds/detectivemeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You made the right choice, Scott."</p>
            </blockquote>





	road to ruin

**Author's Note:**

> this is a take on what might have happened if deucalion got scott to go with him to save the others, and just kind of tosses canon events out the window after that. huge thank you to the wonderful [scottologist](http://scottologist.tumblr.com/), for inspiring this fic and its title and helping polish it with their lovely input! any and all remaining mistakes are, of course, mine. please take the tags in account before deciding to read!

Scott goes, because he doesn't have any other choice. He goes because if he doesn't, they'll die, and he can hear Stiles screaming at his back, begging him not to.

He cries in the car (fucking car. it's so, normal.) Deucalion reaches over, pets his thigh, says, "You made the right choice, Scott."

Scott doesn't know if that's true. He hopes it is.

-

Kali is dead. Ennis is dead. The twins are something (probably dead).

"We need a pack." Deucalion says. Cards his fingers through Scott's hair. They're in a shitty motel room somewhere in Nevada, and Scott keeps trying to remember the pattern of Stiles' moles and the color of Allison's lips, but he can't, he can't, he can't even breathe and it's like asthma, it's like thousands of bees in his lungs. Deucalion holds him while they sleep.

-

He doesn't look at the young alpha's eyes, full of false bravado and fear. Her name is Sarah and he wants to apologize but his throat closes up with the thought of Lydia's laugh and Derek's stupid smirk and his mom's--his mom. 

"Please." He begs. "Please don't. We can find another way. There has to be another way."

She slaughters her pack, but when he looks down, it's his hands that are stained red.

(The first one is the hardest. Deucalion told him so, and he was right.)

-

"We'll be so powerful." Deucalion kisses Scott's cheek. His jaw and neck and nose and forehead. Scott closes his eyes, stops breathing. Thinks about home. Thinks about never seeing it again.

Doesn't think.

-

All in all they get Michael and Jeremy and Carolyn and Sarah. Scott hates them. Wants to burn them all. Wants to burn.

"Good." Duke says, breathing against Scott's neck, his hands hot on Scott's hipbones.

He kills a hunter in Pittsburgh. He thinks of Allison. But he can't remember her smile, and Duke's grinning at him so wide, washing the sticky blood from his fingers, kissing the tips of them.

( _This isn't you_ , the Stiles in his dreams says, looking sad, _this isn't who you are._ Scott's claws are deep in Stiles' chest, and he thinks, _I don't know who I am._ )

-

Of course hunters don't hunt alone. And after the eighth person he kills, he stops counting.

-

He thinks Lydia always had bones for teeth, rutting sharp from her gums and trying to eat him alive. He thinks Stiles was made of razor wire. He thinks Derek was always better off dead and Allison should kill him and he stops thinking about home entirely. (Stops having one.)

"No," Duke says, soft and kind, with fingers hard and bruising around Scott's wrists. It doesn't bother him much, they'll heal soon enough. "You are home, Scott. You are home."  
  
-

  
Isaac is the only one who finds him, when they come looking, when they get close enough. It's Illinois this time, and he's in a forest, and the wind is so cold against his skin it feels like fire.

Isaac smiles big and happy and whole when he looks at Scott. Scott wants to sew his mouth shut with a caterpillar of black stitches.

"Come back," he's saying. "Come back, you can come back. We've found a way we can win."

Scott flexes his hands and thinks about Duke. Thinks about the pack. His pack. Thinks about home.

"You can't." He says. He doesn't say, _I don't want to fight you for them._ He doesn't say, _I don't know who I'll chose._ ( _I don't know who I am._ )

He pulls Isaac close, wraps his hands around his throat, breathes in deep against Isaac's t-shirt for a hopeless, selfish moment, and is long gone before he regains consciousness.  
  
-

Carolyn is cursing and snarling and refusing to let anyone help her, her arm shredded flesh. Scott doesn't say anything. Isn't sure if he's glad that he wasn't there for the fight, or not.

Duke rests his palm on the back of Scott's neck with all the comfort of a branding iron. "They're coming after us." He doesn't look at Scott. "We need to stop running. We need to go to them."

Scott focuses on nothing, inhales the smell of blood, familiar and cloying, and wonders about the necklace of bruises he gave Isaac.  
  
-

Of course it can't end like that. Of course it comes back to Beacon Hills. Of course.

-

(He kills Chris, first. He never liked him much, anyway. Then some new girl with dark hair and sweet eyes. He shoots the Sheriff with his own gun, but only in the shoulder.)

-

He doesn't recognize the street signs or the lines in Stiles' face.

("They're trying to destroy us," Duke croons, "you wouldn't let them kill your family, your _pack_ , would you?")

"Scott, Scott stop." He sounds scared.

Scott blinks. Stiles can't think Scott would hurt him, can he? He did all this for him, for his dad, for mom, for all of them. It was for them, so they'd never be hurt.

("What do I do?" he asks. Duke kisses him with his fangs out. Whispers this against his lips, "You burn them. You kill your old pack for your new one. You burn them all.")

Sarah and Carolyn and Jeremy and Michael are all dead at his feet. He frowns.

"No, they would have hurt you. It's okay, Stiles. I'm protecting you, I'm protecting you all."

Stiles' face is heart broken. That isn't right.

("No," Scott says. Duke's eyes are wide and surprised and he's gasping through the hole in his throat and Scott's mouth is full of blood. "We had a deal." He isn't sure why he ever doubted himself. Not when the taste of Duke on his tongue is so _good_.)

Scott moves forward, to explain, to wipe away the sadness in Stiles' face, but there's arrow in his chest, and, oh.

He looks at Allison, who is crying. Looks at Lydia and Derek and his mom and Isaac and even Deaton's there.

Oh.

"I'm sorry." He says, drops to his knees, and the wolfsbane burns and burns and burns. He means to say, _thank you_ , but his tongue gets stuck to the roof of his mouth, sticky with blood, and the words slur in his brain.

Stiles is holding his hand. (This is the last thing he knows.)


End file.
